Hard work after winning the lottery

It was still in time with the beat of her heartbeat.

This time, however, it brought not a sweet tension, but excruciating pain.

Zhou Yanjin's tall figure walked past her, still carrying that crisp, pine-scented fragrance.

He kept his eyes straight ahead, his expression indifferent.

It was as if the overwhelming public opinion surrounding him was nothing more than insignificant dust.

He pushed open the office door and went inside.

There was nothing unusual throughout the entire process.

He neither denied nor clarified.

His calmness was the best form of acquiescence.

Hua Yun bit her lower lip hard until she tasted a hint of blood, which forced back the heat welling up in her eyes.

Can't cry.

Here, she is just Assistant Hua, not Hua Yun.

She forced herself to refocus on her work.

In the afternoon, Ying Zhiyao asked her to prepare a plan for the next phase of the Huanyu project and requested that she send it to him before leaving get off work.

This is an extremely important document.

Hua Yun was extremely focused, typing out each word carefully and checking it over and over again.

She thought she had done everything perfectly.

Just five minutes before the end of the workday, after she sent out the document, Ying Zhiyao immediately called on the internal line.

"Hua Yun, come here for a moment."

It should be noted that Yao's tone was unusually serious.

Hua Yun's heart skipped a beat.

She strode into the Chief Secretary's office, where Yao pointed to the document on the screen, her brow furrowed.

"Look for yourself, on the second page, third paragraph, you misspelled the project manager's name."

"There's also data on the fifth page; the decimal point is misplaced by one place."

"Do you know the consequences if we send this document directly to President Zhou?"

Hua Yun stared at the two glaring red circles on the screen, her mind going completely blank.

She actually made such a basic mistake.

"I'm sorry, Secretary-General Ying, I..."

"I don't want to hear reasons," Ying Zhiyao interrupted her, her voice turning colder. "I just want results."

"Fix it right away and send it back to me. Don't let this happen again."

"Yes."

Hua Yun lowered her head and withdrew from Ying Zhiyao's office.

At that moment, shame, embarrassment, and unspeakable grievances overwhelmed her like a tidal wave.

She not only lost her heart, but also messed up the job she was so proud of.

The bell rang to signal the end of the workday.

As colleagues left one by one, the office quickly became empty.

After Hua Yun finished revising the file and resent it, she shut down her computer and slumped into her chair, feeling completely drained.

Outside the window, night falls, and the city's neon lights illuminate one by one, bustling and noisy.

But that lively atmosphere had nothing to do with her.

She did not go home.

As if drawn by some force, she walked into the empty stairwell.

The cold cement steps carried the chill of the night.

She found a corner, curled up, and buried her face deeply in her knees.

The emotions that had been suppressed all day finally burst forth at this moment.

There was no loud crying.

She just bit her hand so hard that she couldn't make a sound.

Tears, however, fell silently and surging down like beads from a broken string, soaking her sleeves.

Why am I so sad?

She already knew.

They are the difference between clouds and mud, people from two different worlds.

She looked up at him for 395 days and worked for several weeks in the place closest to him.

He didn't even look at her once.

That "Assistant Hua" was just his most formulaic way of addressing a subordinate.

The coffee she carefully brewed was probably no different to him from the one his former assistant had brewed.

Everything was a one-woman show performed by her alone.

She orchestrated and acted in her own scheme, indulging in unrequited love.

This unrequited love, which lasted for more than a year, was nothing but an absurd joke from beginning to end.

Now, the joke should end.

She sat in the cold stairwell for an unknown amount of time.

Until my legs went numb and my tears ran dry.

She leaned against the wall, stood up unsteadily, and walked out of the Zhou Group building like a wandering ghost.

I returned to that rented room that was only twenty square meters.

I pushed open the door, and there was complete darkness.

She didn't turn on the lights, but used the dim light coming in from the window to look around the small space she had decorated herself.

On her desk lay the copy of "Global Finance" that she had read countless times.

On the cover, Zhou Yanjin's deep gaze is quietly fixed on her.

Once, this face was the source of all her power.

Now, however, it feels like a knife, repeatedly cutting into her heart.

On the bedside table was that diary.

It was filled with her 395 days of longing, filled with all her humble yet joyful thoughts.

On the wall was a profile picture of him cut out from the company brochure.

All traces of him in the room now seemed incredibly glaring, as if silently mocking her foolishness and overestimation of her abilities.

Hua Yun slowly walked over, reached out, and gently tore the photo off the wall.

The profile picture, torn in two, lay silently on her cold floor.

Like her heart, which was also torn apart.

That night, Huayun was sleepless.

The moonlight outside the window changed from cold and pale to deathly white, and was finally swallowed up by the faint light of dawn.

Its daybreak.

She stared at the ceiling with bloodshot eyes, as if she had made a long and painful decision overnight.

This grand unrequited love was the deepest thorn in her heart.

With blood and flesh still attached.

If you don't pull it out yourself, it will fester, it will rot, and it will lose all the dignity it once took pride in.

The only way to remove this thorn is to leave.

Completely, disappear from his world.

She sat up in bed, her movements as slow as a rusty robot.

She turned on the computer, and the light from the screen illuminated her pale and haggard face.

She created a new Word document.

The blinking cursor seemed to be counting down the curtain on her one-woman show.

She took a deep breath, her fingertips landed on the keyboard, and typed two words.

[Resignation Letter]

Without hesitation, without reluctance.

There is only one kind of resolute determination, like scraping the bone to remove poison.

The letter she wrote was official and restrained, every word conveying a sense of detachment.

[Dear Company Leaders:]

Due to adjustments in my personal career plans, and after careful consideration, I have decided to resign from my position as the CEO's secretary assistant...

Not a single unnecessary word was spoken, and not a trace of personal emotion was revealed.

She printed out the document and signed her name.

She wrote those three characters straight and forcefully.

It's as if this 395-day period of looking up has drawn a hasty but firm period to a conclusion.